


Shouldn't Be The Way It Is

by BlueSpectre



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Bar Fight, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Racism, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 23:10:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15278250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSpectre/pseuds/BlueSpectre
Summary: "While the commander was a busy man with more on his plate than he knew what to do with, the idea of romance always hung at the back of his head like a bad song that was too catchy to let go."Omega is a hard, cruel, and unforgiving port. The bars are its only saving grace, and even that is a charitable stretch.And where there's booze, trouble isn't far behind.





	Shouldn't Be The Way It Is

Omega was loud. Though it wasn’t the normal loud of a bustling port. It was loud with smoke, be it from cigars or guns, loud with the sounds of criminals plotting their next hit, their next score. It was loud with a feeling of dread that clung hard at your back, dragging your feet and always keeping you in a state of unrest, a state that told you were always in danger and nowhere was safe, no one was trustworthy, and at any given moment you’d end up with a knife in your spine. 

Shepard had spent a good portion of time here, more than he’d like to admit and definitely more than his crew liked. Most stayed on the ship, not daring to step off the tarmac of the Normandy’s ramp. Shepard couldn’t blame them, Omega was as dangerous as it was smelly, and you’d sooner die of the smell of rotting port food and possible flesh, stale cigarette smoke that had been soaked into the walls over the course of hundreds of years, and there was always the metallic tang of spilt blood that assaulted your nostrils at random moments. But something always drew him here and he had almost become obsessed with finding out what it was that had him so fascinated. It wasn’t the peep shows that catered only to men who sported a boner at the sight of side boob, it wasn’t the way women swung around poles to the delight of many. The booze was mediocre, the kind you only drank because you  _ wanted _ to forget, to get so drunk that you don’t remember your own name. Every weapon he’s seen being sold in this hell hole was cheap and fell apart in your hands as soon as you loaded it. There was nothing here that made it worth bearing the smell of stale piss at the bottom of your boots, there wasn’t even a good community that shone through the bad. It was filled with nothing but criminals, terrorists, and the worst the galaxy had to offer. 

So why the hell was he so fixated by it?

Was it nostalgia? He had been reunited with his best friend here, the guise of ‘Archangel’ carrying Garrus far in this pit as a hero everyone hated because he had become the only outstanding force of good this port had seen in a thousand years. Though, despite his actions and having left with a hell of a mark on the side of his face, for all the good work the turian did the bad merely multiplied like the parasite it was. In the matter of a few weeks, what was done by Archangel had been scrubbed and paved over with dirt. Shepard knew it drove Garrus insane, the guilt eating him alive most days and only served to make the commander question his obsession with the port even more. Why would he want to affiliate himself with a place that caused his friend sadness and anger? 

As awful as it was, Shepard pushed the feelings aside as he stepped into a bar that looked more like a public bathroom than a place that served alcohol. He stepped over a batarian passed out unceremoniously on the floor. There was a smell of vomit that Shepard assumed had just been burned into the floor at this point in the bar’s life and decided that he needed something strong immediately to keep the smell out of his head. Quickly he ordered Everclear, straight up and after an annoying encouragement by the tender working the bar, ordered a whiskey chaser. Taste didn’t matter to him, drink enough and you get just as numb to that as you do anything else. Nevertheless, when the shots came out Shepard downed the Everclear and allowed himself a low growl to sound as the liquor made its way down his throat harshly, like nails to a chalkboard. To the slight horror of the young bartender, another shot of the pure alcohol was ordered and downed just the same, two more being consumed before he finally took the chaser. The whiskey was welcomed, despite not caring about the flavor. Though he supposed his palate deserved something after being washed out with what was like the bleach of alcohol. 

“Figured I’d find you in a dump like this, drinkin’ alone like some fuckin’ sap.”

Shepard offered only a disinterested grunt as the older merc sat down next to him, the commander now nursing a glass of whiskey as he started to feel things swirl in his head. 

“Surely you’ve got a bit more goddamn self respect, Shepard. Run down shitehole of a bar, cheap liquor,” 

“If it’s cheap and gets me drunk, I don’t give a shit where it is or how it is.” Shepard responded harshly, downing the rest of the glass in a quick swallow. 

Zaeed put his hands up in mock defense for a split moment before putting them back down on the counter. The merc wasn’t wearing his armor, just a tank top and a pair of faded jeans that looked older than he was. Ballsy move, coming to Omega with yourself so open like that, but then again, it was Zaeed ‘Goddamn’ Massani. Anyone who tried to take him on would be shoved in a trash shoot. Shepard wasn’t much better, a hoodie with no shirt underneath a pair of hideous black Cerberus standard slacks. Both men were asking to be mugged but no one had the gull to try it.

He motioned for another glass, scotch this time, the bartender looking hesitant but not daring to refuse. Was his presence really that threatening? 

“What do you want?” Shepard asked, not even looking at the man next to him.

“You meanin’ alcohol wise or why I came to find your sorry ass?” 

“Both.” 

“Bourbon, straight.” Another motion was made to the bartender, the young salarian nodding in response “As for what I want from you, I wanna know what the hell that little outburst of yours was.” A glass of bourbon was slid towards him and he caught it coolly, turning his head towards Shepard to look at him. 

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” said the commander bitterly, hiding a growl into his glass. 

“When this Galaxy’s best chance at survival is sittin’ there having a goddamn temper tantrum over somethin’ as little as a misplaced tool, I gotta sit and ask what the hell,” 

The merc downed about half the bourbon in one swift swig, the salarian side-eying him with the same fear and uncertainty he gave Shepard, quickly returning his eyes to the glass he was cleaning when Zaeed put the drink down. “So what’s crawled up yer ass, Shepard?” 

“ _ Nothing _ ,” 

“Doesn’t seem like nothin’, the way you swore at yourself earlier. I know a lick of Spanish, but I didn’t understand a fuckin’ word that came out of your mouth. Goin’ through a breakup?” 

“No.” 

“Didn’t get the armor piece ya wanted?” 

“No.”

“Oh, I know, you’re still pissed about the first Normandy blowing to bits, and with it, all your best skinny mags, is that it?” 

“ _ No.” _

“Oof, strong reaction to that one, think I might be getting closer.” 

“Not even.” Shepard took another swig of the alcohol in front of him, putting the glass down harshly as his irritation grew, causing the bartender to jump. “I’m stressed the fuck out, Zaeed, what the hell else would it be? I’m running around with my head cut off trying to stop every one of our settlements from being abducted by the Collectors while back home at the Citadel they’re  _ still _ refusing to admit there’s a threat. They can’t fucking comprehend that the reapers are real and that Sovereign  _ wasn’t  _ a flag ship. I’m being forced to work with known terrorists because I ‘owe’ them and they only remind me of a debt I never asked for whenever they want to tighten the leash and I can’t fucking  _ breathe. _ ” 

He aggressively downed the rest of the scotch, throwing his head back and allowing the alcohol to gouge its way down the back of his throat, slamming the glass back down onto the counter loud enough to gain a few looks from fellow patrons. 

“So that’s what my ‘goddamn issue’ is. I’ve got no one in my corner, the Alliance refuses to help me, the Council wants themselves and everyone else to still believe I’m dead, and I’ve got Cerberus breathing down my neck. Can’t even shit without them criticizing me.” 

The commander ran a tired hand through his hair, blowing a raspberry from his lips as his body forced him to sigh. Zaeed carefully sipped from his glass as Shepard began to feel his head spin. He thought about putting his head down for a moment but settled on keeping it supported in his palm, watching as the melting ice in his glass formed a thick layer of condensation. 

“When was the last time you had sex, Shepard?” 

The man jumped, hitting his bad knee against the too-short counter, swearing harshly in Spanish as a burning pain shot through his leg. “Kind of a personal question, Massani.” he growled through clenched teeth. 

“That long, huh?” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I’m just saying, lot of your attitude depends on when ya got laid last.” Zaeed shrugged before downing the rest of his own drink. “Could do wonders for you, is all I’m saying.” 

“I don’t need to be told this by  _ you _ of all people,” Shepard hissed, opening his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by a harsh shove that nearly knocked him out of his stool. When he turned to see who was responsible he was greeted by the snarling faces of both human and batarian - what he assumed to be - mercenaries. 

“What?” the commander snapped, narrowing his eyes at the way one of the human mercenaries looked down at him. 

“Ya think ya wanna keep it down, pal?” said one of the humans. 

“Tryin’ to talk business here, hard to concentrate when you’re screeching like a goddamn ape.” said a batarian. 

Shepard’s eyes narrowed further. 

“Ay, but look at ‘em! Ya heard what this wetback was spewing, he  _ is _ an ape!” 

The band of mercs started laughing, Zaeed looking at Shepard’s lap to see his fist balling tight against his thigh. 

“Shep,” he said in warning, but the commander didn’t look at him.

“You get a break from your berryfield, pal? Well, lemme let you in a secret since you don’t get out much,” the human merc got closer to Shepard’s face, close enough where the commander could smell the alcohol and tobacco on his breath. “No one likes a loudmouth,  _ especially  _ one that speaks outside ‘a the translators.” 

He got even closer and Zaeed could see Shepard’s knuckles turning white. 

“Ya get that? Or do ya want me to say it in a language ya understand? No habola espannal, usea transalatorla.”

His buddies behind him laughed, Shepard internally cringing at not only the poor pronunciation, but that made up words that came with it. He had a grin on his face that Shepard was itching to wipe off with his fist. Zaeed stood, however, with the intent to tell the mercs to back off but the commander held a hand up. 

“That’s pretty close,” he lied. “And funny, but you know what else is funny?” 

The merc answered with ‘what’ and in a swift movement, Shepard took his empty glass and shattered it against the man’s head.

And in the next few seconds, both Shepard and Zaeed found themselves surrounded by pissed off mercs. One immediately got a punch in against Shepard’s jaw, Shepard responding by grabbing their collar and slamming his forehead against their nose. Zaeed had two men holding his arms back while another jabbed him in the gut, taking a few hits before finding the footing to kick his attacker away from him and ducked to avoid a punch from one the men holding him, the fist going right into the face of his buddy. Once he was let go he quickly stood straight and forced the head of one of the mercs into the other, harder than expected as both he and Shepard heard a sickening crack, both men falling to the floor. 

And it only awakened something in Zaeed. A fire ignited behind his eyes, a merc shouting in fear at the sight as he was grabbed by the back of the head, face pulled full force into the old merc’s knee. Blood gushed from his nose upon recovering and he quickly fled from the bar. Then it was Zaeed shouting, crying out in pain as a knife found its way deep into his shoulder. The merc that had put it there had his attack answered by Zaeed taking the knife out himself with barely a flinch and rushed his attacker with it. At first the merc held his arm back, the older man groaning as he put all of his weight into the push. His eyes shot down for a moment as his head got an idea, putting it into action as he kneed the criminal in the groin, and once he doubled over in pain, Zaeed had the opportunity to stab the knife into in the man’s head. And he did just that.

Zaeed then wrapped an arm around the throat of a batarian wailing on Shepard, squeezing his bicep around the jugular enough to slow the struggling before twisting in a harsh enough movement to snap his neck. Once the batarian fell, the back of Zaeed’s knee was kicked out and he plummeted to the floor with a harsh thud, the wind being forced out of him by a heavy boot stomping on his chest. Shepard attempted to rush into the fray to help but was stopped by another shot to the jaw. The movement caused his front teeth to cut into his tongue, blood gushing into his mouth and spilling out from between his bared teeth. He was pinned to the counter with an arm, back digging painfully into the way the counter bent, a knee placing a few unfortunate shots against his groin. 

Unable to push the merc off of him due to the angle he was forced in, he endured a few more hits to allow blood to pool in his closed mouth before spitting it all into the face of his attacker. The batarian stumbled back and groaned at the burning sensation of the blood in his eyes, Shepard going a step further and grabbing a bottle left on the counter, smashing it, and forcing a rather large shard into one of the batarian’s upper eyes. The alien screamed, his agony quickly turning to silence as the commander punched the rest of the shard into his head. Blood dripped from his fist as the batarian lie dead at his feet, taking a moment to catch his breath before jumping back in to help Zaeed. 

While Shepard was ‘distracted’ by the batarian, Zaeed had grabbed the foot that was stomping on him and snapped the ankle, allowing him time to kick back onto his feet and send a ‘Lights Out’ punch to the side of the merc’s head. 

With only three men left, Zaeed and Shepard stood back to back and prepared themselves for what were the biggest guys in the group. Krogan.

In a flash of movement Shepard had attempted to run towards one of the larger men and stun him with a roundhouse kick. Unfortunately, his leg had been caught and an elbow was brought down sharp against the side of his bad knee. He barely had time to cry out before he was thrown harshly to the ground, boot forced down against his neck. The commander choked, attempting to push the foot off of him but the strength of the brute outmatched even him. Zaeed noticed the other man’s dilemma and attempted to rush his way over, only to be grabbed by his hair and thrown against the bar counter. 

Zaeed saw stars for a moment as his head bounced off the wood, ears ringing and drowning out all other noise. He looked to see Shepard’s struggling begin to die out, eyes rolling to the back of his head. He didn’t have much time to act, so when one of the brutes pointed a gun at him, he saw his opportunity.

With only half a second left between him and a bullet to the brain, Zaeed managed to move out of the way of the bullet shot at him, taking only a two seconds to grab a piece of broken glass and stab it into the merc’s wrist. The gun was dropped and grabbed again by Zaeed, and before the brute could realize where the gun had gone, Zaeed had already shot him in the throat three times. The other krogan charged him, howling a floor shaking cry, his heavy footstops threw Zaeed’s aim off and caused him to miss a few shots before landing one right in his eye. He dropped just before colliding with Zaeed. With two down, Zaeed aimed the weapon at the last who still held Shepard at his boot, but the gun clicked empty when he pulled the trigger. 

He tossed it aside and picked up one of the metal chairs placed around the tables and brought it down against the last merc’s head. The krogan snarled and turned to face Zaeed, swinging a large arm to the right of him and catching the older man straight across the chest, breath being forced out of him again. But based on the sound of Shepard taking in a gasp of air told Zaeed that he had succeeded in taking the alien off of his throat. But now the krogan was focused on him, enraged by the death of his friends, his movements were fueled by bloodlust. Before Zaeed had time to duck out of the way, he was grabbed by the neck and lifted off the ground, thinking his eyes were going to pop out of his head with how hard the merc was squeezing. Just as he thought his neck was going to be snapped in two, he was slammed against the wall, once, twice, three times and the ringing in his ears returned with a vengeance. 

The krogan threw him aside like a child would with a doll they got bored with, his back colliding with the leg of a chair that had fallen onto its side, feeling something pop at the base of his spine. He damn near thought he had been paralyzed, he couldn’t get himself to move out of the way of being grabbed again and couldn’t bring himself to struggle against the hold. The fist of a krogan was hard, scales digging into skin, vision blackening with each hit. 

But before it had gone lights out completely, Shepard’s cry rang throughout the bar as he leapt onto the krogan’s back, forcing a combat knife under the alien’s head plate. The merc roared and dropped Zaeed like he was nothing more than a sack of shit. He watched as Shepard held onto the knife with both hands, taking that hands clawing at him with barely a flinch as he pushed his legs against the krogan’s back to pull back the knife. Zaeed almost felt sick at the fleshy sound of keratin being ripped off of the beast’s head. 

Few things in the universe were more deafening than the sound of a krogan screaming in agony as his headpiece plummets to the floor and blood oozes from the spot it used to protect. With the merc blinded by crimson, Shepard allowed the brute to simply step over him before standing and summoning the blade of his omni-tool, and with another roar that rivaled that of the krogan’s, charged the beast and forced the blade into where the merc’s chin started, piercing right through his head. 

The screaming had stopped, movement had stopped, everything had stilled and the harsh smell of blood and released bowels of the dead overwhelmed the senses. But despite the awful smell, both Shepard and Zaeed breathed heavily, as if they had never breathed air before, like it was a precious and rare thing to be used sparingly. They looked at each other, both covered in blood - be it of the mercs or their own - and Shepard actually  _ smiled.  _ A grin, teeth stained, and even laugh parted through those lips. Zaeed couldn’t help but return it. Despite feeling as if his body had just been forced through a hard press, it’s been years since he’s had a fight that good. 

And goddamn if the sight of the commander bruised, bloody, and standing over the bodies of dead mercs didn’t turn him on. 

* * *

 

“What the hell were you  _ thinking _ , Shepard?” Chakwas tisked as she cleaned up the commander, the man attempting to mumble something past the cotton in his mouth. In the matter of a few minutes, there wasn’t a speck of white on it, the doctor having to change it before continuing on the other injuries. 

“Intoxication, hostile environment. Tempers high, one thing said wrong, domino effect. Leads to brawls, leads to injuries.” Mordin was almost solely talking to himself as he wrapped bandaging around Zaeed’s chest. “Baser human instinct to fight, primal urge to release anger.” 

“Better watch who the hell you’re callin’  _ primal _ .” Zaeed warned harshly. 

“Threats to allies, hm. Adrenaline must not of worn off yet.”

“These trips to Omega have got to stop, Shepard,” It was the closest any of them would get to hearing Chakwas beg. “There is nothing else for us there except, well,” She motioned to the entirety of the commander. “This.” She then took the cotton out of his mouth once she was confident that the oozing would stop and a bit of Medigel would close the wound. 

“Perhaps there to find stress relief, many places dedicated to that. Might suggest something cleaner, more private. Can tell you about it, if you wish.” Mordin suggested seriously, Zaeed snorting.

“Who doesn’t know how to goddamn masterbate?” 

“Was trying to put it less crude, but yes. Safer. No chance for bar room fights.” 

Shepard groaned. “Yeah, thanks, I think I’m okay.” 

“Please, Shepard,” Chakwas’ voice became soft and no longer stern as a doctor’s, but as a friend’s. “Stop this, you’re hurting your crew as much as you are yourself.” 

He stole a look over to Zaeed, whose chest bore several harsh purple blotches along the skin, his eye was beginning to sport a hell of a shiner, cuts lined along the side of his face, and the wound on his shoulder was already starting to bleed through. He looked unbothered by it all, but Shepard could read he was still in pain, wincing when he thought no one was looking.

Shepard’s hand went to his neck, fingers ghosting slightly against his skin where the krogan’s boot was forced down. There was a constant slight pain that burned in every joint, the ringing in his ears hadn’t quite gone away, and even though the wound had been closed by medigel, he still felt as if his tongue was split in half. He wanted nothing more than to go lay down and sleep for twelve hours. This was certainly one of the worst fights he’s been in for a long time, but despite the pain he felt, he took pride in being able to take down so many other men with just the two of them. No doubt Zaeed felt just as proud, he lived for this type of conflict, and the look both men exchanged, of smirks and quirked brows, only proved this point. 

But then he winked, when neither doctors were looking, and it felt like something stung its way Shepard’s chest. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time, and questioned why the hell he suddenly felt it towards Zaeed of all people. 

“Alright Shepard, I’ve done what I can for you, the rest is up to healing.” said Chakwas, the commander standing and finding himself a little wobbly on his feet. Without the adrenaline of the fight, he figured his brain focused on the fact that he was  _ not _ sober. “And  _ no more _ bar fights, Shepard!” she called as he showed himself out of the med-bay. 

He didn’t respond, he didn’t need to. Both of them knew that there was a chance he’d end up in there again due to exact same situation. 

The walk up to his cabin had made him dizzy, the feeling of the moving elevator making his legs feel as if they were made of putty, and wasn’t proud to admit to himself that he ran straight into the wall  _ next _ to the door. The stairs, while there were only two, proved to almost be a thousand to someone as drunk as he was, and he was amazed he managed to drag himself out of Omega and onto the Normandy without tripping over his own feet. And how he was able to remove his boots and those god awful pants without toppling over.

Nevertheless, after throwing himself onto his bed, he closed his eyes and ignored the pounding in his head.

* * *

The knocking didn’t wake him up at first. It was just a tiny, faded sound in the back of his head. It got louder, however, his head trying to drown it out as it desperately wanted to stay asleep, but the sound, and its creator, was persistent. Pounding now, a voice is what brought him out of REM.

“I know you’re in there, Shepard,” 

Zaeed. 

Shepard looked at the clock that sat at his nightstand, nearly 2 AM in this cycle and the aspect of being awake at this hour after actually being asleep made the commander groan, a hint of a whine edging in on the end. 

“I’m  _ coming _ , give me a second.” he snapped at more persistent knocking, and just to spite the man behind the door, he still lay still for a moment before actually getting up and stumbling sleepily to the door. Once opened, he was greeted by Zaeed with hands tucked in the pockets of his pants. The swelling in his face had gone down to almost nothing and the skin around the cuts looked less red and angry. 

Still, the commander squinted at him. 

“It’s late, what do you want?” 

“I’m here to offer a proposition, Shepard.” 

Shepard crossed his arms over his chest, brow raising. He knew what Zaeed was suggesting wasn’t anything related to business. He stepped back and leaned onto a leg, but didn’t outright refuse to listen, and Zaeed read it as an invitation to continue. 

“I’m not a man to beat around the bush, Shepard, neither of us have had sex in too goddamn long so I offer an outlet.” 

Shepard held his breath in his chest. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit the way they looked at each other back at the bar and in the med-bay didn’t awaken anything in him, something that hadn’t been poked at for years. Seeing Zaeed fight his way through a band of mercs and perform standoffs with giant krogan was the most arousing thing to someone who hasn’t done anything remotely sexual in over three years. As tempting as the offer was, though, he wasn’t sure if he was willing to participate in something so meaningless and casual. While the commander was a busy man with more on his plate than he knew what to do with, the idea of romance always hung at the back of his head like a bad song that was too catchy to let go.

Still, here stood Zaeed, with enough confidence to swagger his way up to Shepard’s door at two in the morning and suggest they visit something primal. The temptation grew as he cast a once over on the old merc, taut muscles coiled around his biceps and neck, face still sharp despite his age showing clearly. But he was a man in good shape despite that and Shepard would be a damn liar if he didn’t admit that was attractive to him. But was it really in his best interest to agree? May be nice for a night or two, but afterwards...

“I never said I haven’t--”

“I’m not stupid, Shepard. I can already tell you’re interested.” 

“Bold of you to assume, Massani, my body language suggests nothing.” 

“Your eyes do. Dilated pupils.” 

Bastard.

His heart hit hard in his chest now, Zaeed standing casually before him, reading him like an open book. One that was desperate that flung itself at the nearest passerby. 

Horrible analogy but at this point his brain was short circuiting. Maybe that was why he let Zaeed into his cabin, and why once they got to the bottom of the steps and near the bed he allowed himself to be pushed down onto it, rough lips on his as a knee came up to push his legs apart. Already his heart hammered against his ribs and his breath threatened to stay caught in his lungs the further down Zaeed’s hands traveled. Had it really been so long that the very touch of another man was enough to send his shorts to damn tight? 

The zipper of his hoodie was undone, the cool air of his cabin brushing past the bear skin on his chest. Soon enough it was on the floor and calloused fingers brushed over the wiring of his abs, the commander’s body involuntarily leaning into the touch. Zaeed laughed lowly, scratchy and lustful, the sound tied Shepard’s stomach into knots, and he grinned at the small moan that came from the man under him as a hand rubbed against the growing bulge in Shepard’s boxers. Smug bastard. 

Zaeed, however, was not one to waste time, grabbing the elastic of the boxers and pulling them down. Now laying completely naked and vulnerable and at Zaeed’s mercy, Shepard was looked over by the merc with a lust and hunger that he hadn’t seen directed at him in a hell of a long time. 

“You got the tools for this, Shep, or am I goin’ dry?” 

“Like hell you are, bottom drawer, nightstand with the clock on it.” 

Zaeed’s chuckle was practically insidious as he made his way over to where he was instructed, opening it to find a few interesting things hidden under a stack of empty folders. Lube, boxes of condoms all varying in size, and Zaeed whistled at the sight of an impressively sized dildo. 

“Quite a collection you’ve got, Shepard,” Zaeed teased. 

“You gonna tease me all night or is this going to happen? Because to me you’re stalling.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ stalling.” 

“Then get the lube and hurry up. Condom too.” 

“Oh come on--” 

Shepard’s voice suddenly became very stern as he sat up and looked the merc dead in the eyes. “Condom, or this  _ isn’t _ happening.” 

“Alright, alright, no need to use the goddamn commander voice on me.” 

Upon returning to the side of the bed Shepard was presented on, Zaeed checked the labeling on the condom, seemingly satisfied with the date written on the packaging as he placed it on the bed for the time being while he kicked his pants off. 

“Don’t have anythin’, ya know.” 

“I believe you. Still isn’t happening without it.” 

Shepard’s heart kicked up into his throat at the sight of the now freed Zaeed Massani, the toy in his drawer seeming like nothing compared to what he was seeing. His body slightly shook at the concept of that being inside him, but an excitement and eagerness came with the hesitation.

After pulling off his tank top and tossing it to the floor with the rest, Zaeed opened the condom and rolled it onto himself, Shepard watching with a hunger that could rival the look Zaeed had given to him earlier. The other man then squeezed a generous amount of lube onto two fingers and held himself over Shepard’s body again, fingertips teasing at his entrance. Then if felt like his nerves were all set on fire all at once, letting out an almost pathetic whine at the feeling of fingers inside him, moving and rubbing to prep him for Zaeed’s cock. Shepard’s hand gripped at the sheets of his bed, twisting them the deeper Zaeed fingered him, chest rising and falling rapidly as the merc the merc worked at him. His legs shuddered at the feeling of nails carefully dragging along inside of him, moaning in a guttural tone which only encouraged Zaeed to work him faster. 

His eyes rolled back, struggling to keep control and not allow himself to unravel before Zaeed even had a chance to pleasure himself. Still, that didn’t keep him from looking up in what was almost a beg as the fingers were removed. He watched as Zaeed rubbed lube onto himself, sighing and growling as he stroked himself. Once he felt it was enough, he grabbed Shepard from behind his knees and lined himself, the commander’s head pushing right back into the bed as he felt the merc’s cock enter him. He let out all of the breath in his lungs, barely able to make a sound as he was thrusted into. 

It started slow and steady at first, the other man working himself in down to the base before picking up in his movements. Shepard knew he wasn’t going to last long, it had been too long and he was too out of practice even with toys at his disposal and the way Zaeed pushed into him made it impossible to keep his composure. Long and deep moans were pouring out of him with each thrust, the growls Zaeed responding with only serving to make Shepard’s own cock throb. When he attempted to reach for it his wrist was held down by a hand stronger than his, Zaeed lowering himself closer to the commander to hold him there. 

The slight change in angle did wonders to what Shepard was already feeling, every nerve surging with fire with every thrust that only became harder and rougher with each one. Soon the headboard began banging against the wall behind it and the springs groaned as much as Shepard did, the commander pulling at the sheets with his free hand as he was pumped into like an Omega hooker. Zaeed’s breath was getting heavier, his growls and grunts getting deeper while Shepard’s moans only got higher in pitch. 

“Oh  _ God _ ,” Shepard whimpered, starting to move with Zaeed and rolling his hips to allow the other man’s cock to hit him where it counted. “Oh my  _ God _ , Zaeed,  _ fuck _ .” 

“You like that, Shepard?” growled the merc, leaning down to hiss in the commander’s ear. He thrusted into the man under him hard, Shepard responding with a gasp and a whine. “I’m going to make you fall apart, is that what you want? Tell me that’s what you want.” 

Shepard only moaned in response, quickly turning to cursing in Spanish when Zaeed had came to complete stand still, pulling out of the commander and getting so close to Shepard’s ear that he felt Zaeed’s hot breath on his skin. 

“ _ Tell me.  _ Tell me what you want, Shepard, tell me you want me to fuck you goddamn senseless.” 

“Fuck, yes, it’s what I want. Fuck me until I can’t walk, fuck me so hard that I can’t even move without feeling what you did to me.” He then looked Zaeed dead in the eyes again, firming his voice to something familiar as he grabbed the chain of Zaeed’s necklace and brought his face in close. “ _ Now _ ,” 

And with that, he was slammed back into and he very nearly screamed at the sensation. Zaeed worked him mercilessly, thrusting faster and harder than Shepard could rightly stand. His legs wrapped around the other man’s waist, pushing himself into Zaeed’s thrusts, moans and whines and swears spilling out of him as he felt something coil at the base of his stomach. The slick sound of skin slapping against skin was disgusting but it was also just as goddamn hot as the sound of Zaeed’s growling and Shepard could feel himself starting break apart. 

Despite this, he still begged Zaeed to go harder, rougher, and the merc only obliged. A hand wrapped around Shepard’s throat and slowly constricted the sides, the other pulled one of his legs up so he would thrust at a different angle, pumping into the commander so hard that Shepard was afraid the headboard was going to break. But even as his spot was being worked at without mercy, the coil at the pit of his stomach was becoming painful, begging to snap and send a rush of unimaginable pleasure throughout his body. His hand went to his own neglected cock and this time he was able to furiously stroke himself in time with Zaeed’s thrusts, a chorus of ‘oh god’s and ‘fuck’s following. 

“Take it, Shepard,  _ take it. _ ” Zaeed demanded between heavy breaths, tightening his grip on the sides of the commander’s neck. “Take it like the goddamn whore you are.” 

Shepard could only moan loudly in response, worrying that he could be heard but also not caring. He needed this, he fucking needed it so bad and he didn’t realize it until Zaeed showed up at his door. Every hesitation about it because of the meaninglessness had gone away and had given away to a type of ecstasy he hasn’t felt before. 

“You like this, huh? You like just getting taken over and fucked? Can pretend to be the big and strong commander all you want, but now I know how you take it, Shepard.” 

“Oh God, oh fuck, oh  _ fuck _ , Zaeed don’t fucking stop,” 

“Beg, you goddamn whore, beg me to finish you off. Beg!” 

“God, please, Zaeed,  _ fuck _ me.” 

“Not good enough,  _ louder _ .” 

“Fuck me, Zaeed! Fuck me!” 

“LOUDER!” 

Shepard practically screamed it, feeling his throat starting to go raw. Zaeed held himself up by balling his fists into the bed, moving faster and harder than Shepard thought him capable, spreading his legs as far as he could as he lay there and took whatever Zaeed did to him. Now the merc was vocal with his own moans, closing in on his own climax, mumbling something Shepard didn’t understand, or chose not too because he was too focused on what he was feeling. 

Eventually, though, he couldn’t take anymore, and his orgasm hit him as hard as a truck as he yelled out Zaeed’s name louder than he has anyone else’s, cum spilling onto his stomach as Zaeed thrusted into him a last few times before feeling something snap inside of himself. He came with a low groan, working himself in a stillness as he hovered over Shepard to catch his breath. 

Both men breathed harder than they did back at the bar, sweat dripping off of both of their bodies. Shepard whined at the overstimulation of Zaeed pulling out of him, the merc wasting no time in removing the soiled condom and tossing it into the garbage can next to Shepard’s desk. He then laid on the bed next to the commander, both men struggling to steady their breathing. They stayed there for quite some time, Shepard eventually sitting up to grab one of his dirty and discarded shirts to wipe himself off before tossing it back into a corner. 

“You were right,” Zaeed looked at Shepard with a brow raised. “I  _ did _ need that.” 

The merc grinned and closed his eyes, trying to keep the room from spinning. “Glad I could be of service.”   



End file.
